Thursday, January 13, 2011
Where's Your Barn?
You know the road. You’ve traveled it many, many times – sometimes faster than others. But it’s the road that you’ve come to know so well, it’s as if you have a kinship with it. You know not just the curves, the stop signs, the passing areas, you’ve become acquainted with the homes along the way as well. Am I the only one who gets this feeling? Traveling with my family the other weekend brought back memories, and passing the homes that I once passed so frequently was almost like visiting an old friend. At first I thought it was just the warm feeling us humans get out of a familiarity with items, with the same routine. But when I saw an old barn crumpled in a massive heap on the very ground in which it stood for so many years, my heart sank. I felt like I should have received a call or a notice that this barn was no longer standing. Didn’t the owners somehow know that I had always glanced at that barn every time I drove by? I loved the look of the vine that had taken years to crawl up the sides and turn it into a lovely, lovely monument to days of back breaking labor and simpler times. My husband was driving, and I didn’t feel the need to share this one sided relationship I have with this dilapidated structure. My mouth just dropped as we drove quickly by, and I was at once sadden with the thought that it was gone. I had no idea. Was it purposefully torn down for safety reasons? Was is just too old, and slowly deteriorated? Perhaps a large spring storm gave it a justified send off. Is it a ‘woman’ thing? Are the ladies the only ones who get attached to such inanimate objects? What was that barn used for primarily in it’s hay day (no pun intended) ? Was there a large group of strong farmers that came together to raise that barn into what is ultimately became? Did any of those same farmers watch the barn slowly makes it way into demise? No, I don’t think that I or anyone could have saved the barn. It does make me wonder - does anyone frequently travel the road in front of our home? Do they try to squeeze a peek up our long, winding driveway and wonder what kind of people live up there? Perhaps an old retired couple, maybe the place is deserted - I know, its haunted. Is someone, someday going to be unpleasantly surprised that we resided the house an unattractive shade of burgundy? Do they approve of our upkeep of the property? This barn, I came to believe meant more to me than I originally thought. Oh how that sagging barn mirrors the reality of human relationship. Most of us are simply driving by too fast. Some of us are doing the speed limit, but have our eyes on the road. Let’s all take a leisurely drive down the road of life, and do more than just ’notice’ people along the way. I don’t want to be surprised by the passing of another barn.